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We tend to take for granted that tomatoes taste like cardboard these days. And that chicken is about as appealing as the Styrofoam it’s packaged in. We know mass-produced food is bland, which is why so many of us have flocked to farmers’ markets in search of carrots that taste like, well, carrots. But few have stopped to contemplate the link between mealy supermarket apples and the obesity epidemic.

In his latest book, The Dorito Effect: The Surprising New Truth About Food and Flavour, Toronto journalist Mark Schatzker does just that, and with truly surprising results. For all we’ve heard about diet over the past few decades, we’ve never heard this: our palates are not an enemy to be conquered, but a vehicle for “nutritional wisdom.” Our cravings are not the problem. They are, in fact, the solution.

What’s steered people off track is the manipulation of these instincts. Schatzker traces the dilution of whole foods through industrial agriculture, and the simultaneous evolution of scientifically engineered flavour (a trend Doritos kick-started in the early ’60s). What he learns along the way is that our love affair with flavour is not some awful twist of fate that dooms us to become fatter by the year, but rather a wonder of the natural world.

Sheep, for instance, gravitate to the exact shrubs that contain minerals they need to correct deficiencies; monkeys suffering from parasites eat the very plants that heal them. And, from the research Schatzker presents, it seems humans have that same mechanism. (Think: scurvy-addled sailors craving fruits and vegetables.) Taste guides us to the most nutritious foods, the foods we most need to thrive. Or, at least, it used to.

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The problem is that the foods that are good for us don’t taste as wonderful as they used to (and therefore are not as nutritious, since nutrition and flavour are correlated), and junk has never tasted more delicious. And so our bodies are confused.

For decades now, industry has been adding intoxicating synthetic flavours to every imaginable product — some 600 million pounds a year in the U.S. alone. These chemicals short-circuit nature’s complex regulatory systems, wreaking havoc on the body’s ability to instinctively seek out the nutrition it needs.

But here’s the joyous news for food-lovers: the solution Schatzker proposes is to put pleasure first, to eat the most mouth-watering whole foods and let the body correct itself.

Ditch all that honey-and-garlic-glazed industrial chicken chefs are busy grilling, he says, and home-cook some pasture-raised, ancient variety birds. In addition to tasting better, being more nutritious and promoting a feeling of wellness, this food comes with a side benefit: it tends to be binge-proof. (When was the last time, Schatzker wonders, that you pigged out on perfectly ripe fruit and wound up in a food coma?) He argues that this would make us all healthier and happier — and, for every dollar we spent on high quality, fresh food, we’d be demanding more from industry.

That this news all is delivered with narrative suspense, entertaining asides, hilarious turns of phrase — and a total absence of pretension or preachiness — is a testament to Schatzker’s talent. And it makes this the most readable of food science books.

But there is a problem here, and one that Schatzker himself acknowledges. At least until Big Food starts caring about taste and investing in flavour and nutrition, this approach to eating is limited to those wealthy enough to afford grass-fed beef and heirloom potatoes.

Still, for anyone who’s ever felt baffled by the bizarre pull between wanting vitality and wanting to gorge on pulled pork poutine, this at least takes us a step closer to some understanding. The Dorito Effect provides a glimmer of hope to anyone who’s struggling to eat healthy.

Tara Henley is a journalist in Toronto. She’s been writing about food for a decade.

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